


» the hero doesn't die in this one

by filzmonster



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: ('whimsikal' isn't exactly my strongest suit.), (it makes sense in my head but.), (so you have been warned xD), Gen, I don't even know what this is., PH Secret Santa 2018, also i got no idea if this makes any sense, i can't remember the last time i wrote canon leo, pandoraheartssecretsanta, pandoraheartssecretsanta2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filzmonster/pseuds/filzmonster
Summary: » He doesn’t think it’s that strange at first – and really, he’s used to weird dreams by now (in which the world crumbles and falls, in which he walks down bloodied hallways, in which golden lights rain down from the sky, in which he falls to his knees and does not get up again), he’s had them a couple of times a month ever since he can remember and he’s dealt with them how he’s dealt with everything else in his life: he’s gone to the library and read a couple of books on the matter, and then he’s read more books and then he’s gone back and started re-reading them all until he felt that he adequately understood the topic. It was enough information to figure out that every psychoanalyst would have a field day with his dreams. It was enough to start a dream journal, just for his own personal amusement.





	» the hero doesn't die in this one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is the secret santa gift for @whatevsbla over at tumblr! I hope you like it! The lyrics I used are from "Dream" by Imagine Dragons. Have fun! :)

» we all are living in a dream, but life ain’t what it seems, oh, everything’s a mess.  
» and all these sorrows I have seen, they lead me to believe that everything’s a mess.  
» but I wanna dream, I wanna dream, _leave me to dream._

 

***

(the hero doesn’t die in this one.)

The dream starts with his sixteenth birthday.

He doesn’t think it’s that strange at first – and really, he’s used to weird dreams by now (in which the world crumbles and falls, in which he walks down bloodied hallways, in which golden lights rain down from the sky, in which he falls to his knees and does not get up again), he’s had them a couple of times a month ever since he can remember and he’s dealt with them how he’s dealt with everything else in his life: he’s gone to the library and read a couple of books on the matter, and then he’s read more books and then he’s gone back and started re-reading them all until he felt that he adequately understood the topic. It was enough information to figure out that every psychoanalyst would have a field day with his dreams. It was enough to start a dream journal, just for his own personal amusement.

The journal is how he figures out just _how weird_ his dreams have gotten over the years. Specifically, one particular dream.

It’s not a strange dream _per se_ , it’s just that he has the same one in various lengths over and over again, right down to the words he uses to describe it in his diary, like his brain can’t even think of different expressions to write about something that is so thoroughly identical. He’s read about this phenomenon and apparently it’s not that unusual to have reoccurring dreams. It is, however, unusual to have them more and more frequently over the span of a couple of months. What started out as a monthly nightmare turned into a bi-weekly nightmare turned into a weekly nightmare turned into an ‘almost every night’ nightmare.

And then it starts creeping into his days, like reality slipping away into the dream, lose threads entangling with something he can’t really touch or see or explain to anyone except himself. It’s the first time he becomes really, actually _scared_.

He catches _the face_ looking back at him from blank surfaces – his bathroom mirror in the morning, a window at school he’s passing by, even the stillness of the lake behind the dorm rooms. _His_ face, or what his face would be with a sharp haircut and without his glasses. He lets his hair grow extra messy, just out of spite.

(It may be a nice addition that Elliot likes his hair long and messy, and that he sometimes plays with the dark strands when he’s tired or nervous or concentrating or distracted or –)

(Another nice addition is that Oz would sometimes ask if he can bride his hair – simply as practice for when he sees his sister again during school break, of course.)

The face brings a warning with it that he doesn’t really understand., but he doesn’t have to understand to know that it’s something he should pay attention to – the books have taught him that. And if not the books, then the look in the face’s eyes – his own eyes, not hidden away behind big glasses and thick bangs – that utter desperation, dark and deep and endless. Whatever that face has seen, Leo will make sure that he himself will not have to see it. _Never_.

 

***

(he doesn’t have to.)

The dream is this: he’s standing in some kind of cave, surrounded by darkness and gravel and dirt. There’s a figure in a red cloak standing in front of him, motionless, like the shadow of a statue, still and unmoving and radiating some kind of dark power that makes Leo shiver. The longer the dream lasts (sometimes he wakes after the first few scenes), the darker it gets around him and the figure, but in the darkness, more figures appear until he is standing in an endless sea of statues and shadows and so much power it feels like something is going to shatter under the physical strain it has on this dreamed up world. If the dream lasts this long, the figure steps forward with one elegant motion, almost as if not moving at all but just disappearing and reappearing. And then the figure pulls back their hood and Leo’s own face is looking back at him with those lost and empty eyes. His hair is shorter, framing his face instead of hiding it away and he’s not wearing his glasses. It’s weird how vibrant the purple colour of his eyes is in the darkness, and a part of Leo knows that it’s there where that disturbing power is coming from – somehow it’s connected to his eyes.

Everything comes down to his eyes in the dream. They are what is haunting him when he wakes up, because they are beautiful and terrifying, so sad and lonely and yet so filled with more of the world than Leo will ever see (or at least he hopes so).

The figure only ever says to sentences: “They are watching you.”

And: “Keep him safe.”

That’s where the dream always stops. This is also where it starts bleeding into his reality. The face is watching him, following him around, as if to make sure that he’s listening, that he’s following these orders, that he _does keep him safe_. (Leo does not have to ask who this _he_ is supposed to be.)

No matter where he looks, it always seems to be looking back at him. He is truly haunted and a part of him – the part that isn’t scared, isn’t worried, isn’t freaking out – is a little thankful for this constant reminder. As long as the face keeps staring back at him, like it’s doing right now, it’s not too late. He can still keep him safe. Leo just wishes he would know _what_ to keep him safe _from_. What could happen that would turn his eyes into such a deep and troubled stretch of water, filled to the rim with despair? He doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t help himself whenever –

“Leo? Hey, Leo!” Elliot’s voice draws him away from the his own reflection, glittering on the surface of the still lake behind their dorm rooms. It’s not the face, but he’s been waiting for it ever since they sat down in the soft grass, the mild April sun warm on their skin.

“What?”, he mumbles a little more annoyed than he really is, but it’s just so irritating. Staying on the path between reality and dream is an act of balance that is becoming harder and harder with every day, and Leo doesn’t know how much longer he can keep his slowly decreasing sanity a secret from Elliot.

“I asked you a question”, Elliot shoots back, matching his irritation instantly. “But apparently you got distracted by your own good looks. I didn’t know you were so _vain_.”

Leo takes a breath to prepare for the oncoming shouting match – or maybe just to push back his fear – but Oz already breaks up the fight before it could develop, as smoothly as ever.

“Where do you think we should go from here?”, he asks, and this boy is a genius when it comes to diplomacy. He takes one of the papers they’ve been scribbling on for the past hour or so and practically throws it at Leo’s face – excitement rolling off him in big waves.

This is exactly how Leo has pictured this school project to be when he and Elliot got grouped up with Oz Vessalius of all people. Of course Elliot immediately complained about having to work with _Oz Vessalius_ because he still doesn’t want to admit that he likes him. He still has to admit that Oz is pretty smart and hard working and therefore a good partner when it comes to school projects. He’s also pretty good at mediating and stopping fights before they escalate (he’s pretty useless once they’ve started though), which is also helpful.

For the project, they have to write a fairytale. It’s ridiculous, really, but it’s an easily achieved good grade and the weather is nice and Leo doesn’t mind spending a little bit more time with Oz. If only because it’s fun to watch him and Elliot dance around their awkward rivalry-slash-friendship.

They are almost done with the fairytale by now, Leo realizes as he skims over the last couple of notes, written in Oz’ neat handwriting.

What they have so far is a knight, happily questing his way through his kingdom, along with his servant and a young magician in training. They are doing all kinds of heroic things: slaying dragons, rescuing people from bandits, helping to rebuild destroyed villages. What they need now is the climax, and the ending.

“So he is stepping into the tower, the only part of the cursed castle that is not completely in ruins”, Leo repeats the last thing they’ve written down. “What are the options now?”

Elliot huffs. “Shorty here wants him to meet a princess and then be cured by true love’s kiss or something.” He rolls his eyes in obvious disdain. It’s adorable how hard he tries to hide how _committed_ he is to the story by now.

Oz rolls his eyes. “It’s a _fairytale_. Love is _supposed_ to be the final solution!”, he insists.

“That’s not the point of a fairytale at all!”, Elliot rebuffs immediately. “This is not a romance novel. A fairytale is supposed to be dark and … cruel. Almost brutal. And in the end is teaches a valuable lesson. See? No need for romance. _At all_.”

Leo sighs. Elliot is kinda right, but he doesn’t say that out loud. (He doesn’t have to, Oz is smart enough to figure that out himself. Oz is also smart enough to have figured out what Leo already knows, too. The way they’ve set up all the pieces and parts … there’s only one way for the story to progress now. And apparently Elliot still hasn’t picked up on that yet. That what Oz is trying to do with his silly romance plot is to –)

“Ah, crap!”, Elliot shouts in frustration. “We have to kill him, don’t we?”

(– save the knight.)

Leo came up with the idea pretty early on. It’s what actually sent the knight and his servant on their quest (because responsible knights don’t just abandon their family and political position for a little bit of _fun_ ): the knight got cursed. Or rather, the knight got injured and the servant tried to save his life by making a deal with an enchantress who then cursed the knight in the process of saving him. He would die in a year’s time and bring great destruction with his death. To prevent this from happening, the knight and the servant set out to find a way to break the curse. They picked up the magician along the way, who told them about the castle and that there’s supposed to be a means to end every curse ever in its ruins.

Oz nods slowly. “I mean – the problem with breaking the knight’s curse is that it would also mean that his sealed wound would kill him after all. That’s what the magician established when they first met, it’s why he didn’t break the curse himself. I don’t see how that rule should change just because they found something shiny in an old castle. But at least if they use the thing to break the curse, the knight’s death won’t bring eternal destruction over his kingdom?” He winces. “I’m sorry, Elliot.”

For a moment, Elliot only stares at their notes, every pretence of him not being deeply invested into their own characters gone, then he sighs. “It can’t be helped”, he says and shrugs if off. “It’s the only thing that makes sense at this point and I really don’t feel like going back and changing almost everything. Also, like this the magician won’t have to secondhand-kill the knight to prevent the eternal destruction.”

Oz pats him on the back and starts scribbling it down.

Leo chews on his lips. He’s staring at the face, it’s staring back from the surface of Elliot’s metal pencil case.

“Maybe …”, he starts, his mind spiralling down into the violet darkness, “… they could find something to turn back time? Go back to the moment when the knight was injured in the first place and prevent it from ever happening? The lesson would be that it’s never too late to fix your mistakes.”

Oz looks up from his notes and blinks at Leo, something like hope spreading in his green eyes. The emotion suits him.

It’s Elliot who shakes his head and then stretches his arms over his head. “But that would also undo all the knight’s heroic deeds – all the people he’s saved and helped. Even the magician, they only met him because they were on their quest. The knight wouldn’t be the same knight anymore, and he wouldn’t have the same friendships.” He’s very casual about it but Leo knows him well enough to pick up on the stern idealism behind his words. For some reason, it sends Leo’s heart into a thrumming sprint.

“So, what’s the lesson gonna be then?”, Oz asks curiously, watching Elliot with that eager expression that reveals just how bad his case of hero-worshipping is.

Elliot looks back at him with a faint blush on his cheeks. “That sometimes all you can do is make the most of the time you have and use it to do _good_. That’s the lesson for the knight, at least. For his friends it’s probably something like, they keep questing in honour of the knight’s sacrifice? Sometimes you lose a friend but their effect on your life will never disappear again? It’s all very cheesy, isn’t it?”, he asks, suddenly a little bit shy.

Oz coughs and grins, shaking his head. “Nope, I like it. It fits the general theme of honour and _meaning_ we’ve been going on.”

Leo nods. “The knight dying and his friends carrying on his honourable quest – it’s a fitting end”, he says and means it. But when he looks back at the face, the purple eyes look up at him with an even darker shade of sadness than ever before. Then the face turns away and vanishes.

Somehow, Leo feels like he’s failed his task.

That night, he wakes up from the dream in the middle of the night, soaked in cold sweat and terror clutching his heart in its icy hands. He hates it when that happens. He’s supposed to be stronger than that.

He sits up with a muffled sigh, pushing his bangs out of his face and rubbing his eyes. It takes a moment for his sight to adjust to the darkness around him (normal, powerless darkness, not filled with hovering and ominous figures and warnings and foretold loneliness). He doesn’t notice the figure sitting on the windowsill at first, and it takes him another glance to figure out that it’s Oz. He’s crouched against the pane of glass, his face turned to look outside and his arms hugging his knees to his chest.

Something has always been a bit off about Oz Vessalius. It’s what makes him fit in so well with Elliot and Leo. He’s surrounded by a thin layer of chaos, like he’s pulling a tear in the fabric of reality behind himself. It used to be quite unnerving but then Leo’s own reality has started to splinter and fray around the edges and he’d started to wonder if that would be visible for other people, too. If Oz would look at him and see the same tear drifting around him.

Oz tilts his head and meets Leo’s gaze over the reflection in the window – his eyes are blood red in the dark.

“You get the warnings too, don’t you?”, he asks softly, quietly.

He swallows. “Yes.”

Oz turns around and looks at him, red meets purple and power spreads and – then it’s gone. “What are we gonna do now?”

Leo turns to Elliot, who is still sleeping in his own bed, safe and sound. “We listen”, he says.

Oz simply nods. Reality knits itself back together around him and after he blinks slowly, his eyes are green again. The next morning, Leo wonders if he’s simply imagined the whole thing, but he never dreams the dream again.

 

***

(he already died in someone else’s dream.)


End file.
